


Trovatella

by notoneforreality



Series: QB-B3 007 Fest 2020 [1]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: 007 Fest, 007 Fest 2020, Accidental Child Acquisition, Alessia is a little shit, Autistic Character, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Found Child, Foundling, Gen, He is going to explode, M/M, Orphan - Freeform, Parent James Bond, Parent Q, Parenthood, Prompt Fill, Q cannot deal with this right now, Q is Autistic, Stimming, Team Q Branch, autistic traits, kind of, to the disaster child that James found in a maltese vineyard
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:55:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24843406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notoneforreality/pseuds/notoneforreality
Summary: James is on a mission in Malta, and finds a child following him into trouble at every turn. Q is unaware, R is an enabler, and James isn't going to leave a child to live in a boarded-up shop.Q was not prepared for any of this, but he's never been good at abandoning strays.
Relationships: James Bond/Q, R/Agent Bobby Carter
Series: QB-B3 007 Fest 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1795726
Comments: 11
Kudos: 49





	Trovatella

**Author's Note:**

> Written for--  
> This prompt from the 2019 anon list: A fic featuring a conversation in a language other than English. You can do it however you like, whether it is Bond in the field, Q talking to his counterpart at another agency, or characters practicing their foreign language skills, etc.
> 
> Title translation: Foundling  
> (Italian transalted by me, apologies for any inaccuracies.)

The first time he notices her, it’s in the middle of a gunfight. James shoots the man closest to him with his last bullet and steals his gun. As he checks the magazine, the tree above him rustles in a way that doesn’t match any of the others that line both sides of the grassy avenue, doesn’t fit the pattern of the breeze. He glances upwards, gun ready, and catches half a glimpse of a small person before his attention is drawn by a bullet whizzing past his head.

It takes him ten minutes to take out seven of the nine people who attacked him, and the last two have already vanished deeper into the vineyard. He makes sure that there’s nothing else to be worried about, tells Q in his ear that he’s finished for tonight, and switches off his earpiece. He’ll text Q, when he gets back to the hotel room. For now….

James walks back to the tree, keeping his strides measured and calm. The gun is still in his hand, because Q would kill him himself if James managed to survive a shoot out and then get ambushed by an unknown after the fact, but he keeps the weapon down.

There’s a small girl tucked into the branches. It’s dark enough and she’s high enough that no one else would have noticed her, that no one at all would have noticed her if James hadn’t happened to steal from the man that went down directly under this tree.

She stares back at him, face unsettlingly blank. The most he can see is the slightest hint of interest in her eyes.

The closest civilisation is the house belonging to the vineyard, which belongs to Xuereb, James’ current mission. His file hadn’t mentioned children, but James keeps his guard up, anyway.

“Hello,” he says. “Who are you?”

She doesn’t respond. 

As James’ eyes adjust to the tangle of leaves and branches in the half light of the early morning, he can make out dark hair around a brown face, a pair of trousers that stop halfway down her shins, and a dirty, torn t-shirt. 

“Are you stuck up there?”

Again, there’s no answer to his question, but she shifts, folding down closer to the lower branches.

“Ho un fucile,” she says, so quiet that it must be just to herself. It gives James an idea, though.[1]

“Chi sei?” Italian isn’t his favourite language, but he knows a reasonable amount.[2]

That earns a reaction. The girl’s foot slips off a branch, and then there’s a flurry of movement and furious rustling, and then she’s lying on the lowest branch like a panther, still staring.

“Lei parla italiano?”[3]

“Sì. Mi chiamo Jack.” It’s close enough to his real name without giving the game away if she does happen to be connected to Xuereb’s people. “Come ti chiami?”[4]

After a long pause, during which the girl narrows her eyes and refuses to blink until James does, she says, “Alessia.”

“Stai bene, Alessia? Dove sono i tuoi parenti?”[5]

Another pause. “Non ho i parenti.”[6]

James frowns. He shoves one hand into his pocket and realises the other is still holding the stolen gun. There’s only one bullet left, but he tips it into his palm before dropping the gun on top of the body still lying at the tree. James is fairly sure the man is just unconscious, but he also doesn’t care too much.

With both of his hands free to hide in his pockets, he does so, shifting his weight onto one leg.

“Dove abiti?”[7]

Alessia screws her face up. “Qua e là,” she says, and James frowns even more.[8]

“Abiti con qualcuno?”[9]

“Lei fa troppe domande,” Alessia says, and in a flash she’s squirreled back up in the tree. James considers waiting down her or going up after her, but the rustling moves down the row and, with a start, he realises she’s climbing from tree to tree where the wide branches overlap and interlock.[10]

By the time he makes it to the end of the avenue, she’s gone. 

It’s a long walk back to the nearest town. James spends the entire journey back thinking about Alessia. Still, it’s only when he’s back in his room, having sent off a text to Q reminding him to sleep and eat and go home at least for long enough to feed the cats, that he realises he made a mistake. ‘Genitori’ is the italian word for parents, not ‘parenti’. ‘Parenti’ means relatives.

“Fuck,” James says to his empty hotel room.

* * *

The second time, it’s a fist fight in Valletta. It’s also the middle of the day and a crowded street, although most people flee pretty quickly as James counters a clumsy punch with a sharp uppercut, dodging out of the way of the next fist and letting the woman’s own momentum carry her into her associate coming up behind James.

Q is on the comms, trying to intercept both the police and any Xuereb-aligned back up, keyboard clicking in James’ ear.

The man lands a hit on James’ jaw and his head snaps to the side, pain blooming up from the point of contact. He stumbles back a few steps, then snarls and leaps at the man.

At the end of the fight, the woman has dragged the man away, all three of them bruised and bloody and panting with the exertion of it all.

“Police are on their way so you better move if you don’t want to try explaining why you just nearly killed to people in the middle of the capital,” Q says, as James touches his fingers to the wound on his head and hisses.

“Got it,” James says, and he starts to leave.

“Bollocks,” says Q. “Double-oh Eight is in trouble. I’m switching you to R.” 

In the two seconds that the connection is dead, James spots Alessia.

“Afternoon, Bond.” R’s voice is bright and cheerful. 

James doesn’t return the greeting, too busy striding across the avenue to where Alessia is hunched between to cars.

“Alessia,” he says. R makes a confused noise, but James ignores her. “Vieni con me. La polizia stanno venendo.”[11]

She gives him the same blank look he remembers from three nights ago, but then she takes his hand and lets him tug her through the streets until they’re a safe distance from the scene of the fight.

“Double-oh Seven,” R says, sharp, and James winces. He fumbles in his back pocket and comes up with a phone that isn’t completely smashed, and holds it to his ear.

“Hi, R,” he says. “Sorry, I had to deal with something.”

“Something? Or someone?” The edge to R’s voice doesn’t disappear and James frowns. She’d definitely tried to speak to him several times while he got himself and Alessia away, but ignoring things usually gets him irritation or resignation, not this sort of angry bite. “Who’s Alessia?”

Alessia is stood next to James, occasionally glancing up at him but apparently content to lean against the stone wall at their backs and watch people go by.

“I found her in Xuereb’s vineyard the other night. She watched the whole thing from a tree and then ran away when I tried to ask where she lives.”

R hesitates. “How old is she?”

“Give me a moment.” James turns to Alessia. “Quanti anni hai?”[12]

“Ho otto anni,” she says, the quickest response he’s ever gotten from her. “Chi Lei sta parlando?”[13]

“Un’ amica,” he tells Alessia, and then tells R, “She’s eight.”[14]

“How have you managed to acquire an eight year old?” The anger is completely gone, replaced by the expected resignation.

“I haven’t acquired her. But I want to try and make sure she’s safe.” He glances down at her. “I’m going to hang up the phone now, so I won’t be able to give you any more information.” 

Unless he’s crouched down next to her, Alessia is too far away from the earpiece for even Q-Branch’s sensitive mic.

“Do you need me to say goodbye?” Some amusement seeps into the resignation.

“No, I don’t think she can hear you. I don’t think I’ll get much more done today so you can go and help Q with Nkongolo if you want. I’ll check in later with any updates.” Then, just in case, he says, “Bye!” and then brings his phone down and taps the screen as though he’s hanging up.

“Mi dispiace.” He sifts through his brain, looking for the right words. “Era una conversazione importante.”[15]

“Su di me?” [16]

James doesn’t spend a lot of time around children, but he’s sure they’re not supposed to sound that cynical.

“Mi sta mancando un incontro, e lei ha voluto sapere perché.” [17]

Alessia gives him a flat look. “Voleva sapere di mia età?”[18]

So he’d picked the wrong conjugation, then. He flips through reasons in his head and finds an excuse. “Voleva sapere che non sei la mia amante.”[19]

Alessia’s whole face scrunches up and she sticks her tongue out. “Che schifo!”[20]

It’s the most childish thing James has seen her do, and he laughs.

“Esattamente. Allora, ho fame. E tu?”[21]

Something shifted in Alessia while she was making faces about being his mistress, and she grins up at him. “Sto morendo di fame,” she says, dramatic about it, and although James doesn’t recognise the phrase, he can guess it.[22]

“Quindi, dovremo trovare il cibo,”[23]

He takes her for food, and they eat and talk, and she alternately laughs at and corrects his italian. He thinks he’s made some progress, and might be abe to talk her into staying in his hotel until he can find somewhere more permanent for her. 

The instant he mentions it, however, she’s gone again. He pays for both of their food, and an extra bottle of water. He’ll go back to the hotel and report back to R, see if she has any advice.

* * *

The third time is not the charm. James looks up from the broken body of Xeureb, who’s just fallen from the top of the scaffolding that cocoons the building site, and Alessia is sat, cross-legged on a pile of bricks.

“Perché sei qua?” James barks, more harsh than he means it to be. He’s out of breath from chasing Xeureb and his goons and from the bullet wound in his right hip and the probably broken toes he kept running on for far longer than her should have, and Alessia is in the danger zone, again. “Come mi trovi sempre?”[24]

“Lei è rumoroso,” she says.[25]

“Ed anche pericoloso. Il vigneto, Valletta, ed adesso qui. Non sono vicino.”[26]

Alessia narrows her eyes. “L’ha ucciso?” She nods at Xeureb.[27]

James sighs and pushes himself to his feet. There’s nothing on Xerueb’s body that will be of any use to him at this point. “È caduto.”[28]

“Ma voleva ucciderlo?” She cocks her head at him. “Era un uomo pericolissimo.”[29]

“Sì.” James shoves his gun back into its holster at his hip and casts his eyes across the ground to find the earpiece that had fallen out while he and Xereb were wrestling at the top of the building structure. He doesn’t expect to find it — there’s no guarantee that it even fell down, and he doesn’t have the energy or the inclination to go back up to retrieve it — but there it is, in the bottom of a pothole.

He brushes the dirt off and presses it into his ear.

“—no respect for protocol or equipment or handlers,” Q is saying on the other end.

“Q,” James says, and Q shuts up. “Xeureb is dead.”

“Right,” Q says. “Sitrep?”

James rattles off his position, and a brief rundown of the altercation, detailing the five of Xeureb’s people who got away, and his assessment of the group and the repercussions of its leader’s death.

“Give me until the end of the week, and I’ll have it dismantled completely.” That gives him three days. It shouldn’t take much; the power vacuum will already have made cracks in the foundations if not halfway up the walls, and it won’t be difficult to goad them into tearing their own group apart.

Three things happen in quick succession: there’s the sound of footsteps, a shifting sensation on James’ hip, and a gunshot.

James whirls around, reaching for both Alessia and his gun to protect her and fire back, but then he stops dead. The gunshot wasn’t enemy fire. Alessia is stood, feet braced, with James’ gun up in front of her. At the edge of the construction site, a man is on his knees and clutching at his arm.

James stares.

Alessia turns around and hands him his own gun back. “È molto pericoloso, qua,” she says.[30]

“Double-oh Seven!” 

James winces away from the shout, but he can’t get away from it because it’s tucked into his ear.

“One hostile attempted approach. Shot him in the arm.” He doesn’t really know why he’s being vague — R knows about Alessia, and there’s a fair chance that she’s already told Q anyway — but it’s easier than explaining how an eight year old managed to steal his weapon and shoot someone before James even noticed. 

“I better get out of here,” he tells Q. “I’ll leave it for the rest of today, and I’ll be home by Monday morning.”

Q doesn’t say ‘stay safe’ because that would be unprofessional and he has Rules about behaviour at work, but his sigh is soft and quiet and James hears it anyway.

Then, because he needs to get Alessia out of here before something else happens, he picks the comms unit out of his ear and stuffs it into his pocket.

He steps up onto the pile of bricks on which Alessia had been sat, and scans the landscape for any others approaching. There are none. Still, he keeps his guard up as he steps back down and moves towards the road leading back to the town.

“Vieni,” he calls over his shoulder, and light footsteps chase after him until a hand slips into his own.[31]

He looks down at Alessia, who looks back at him with the wide, innocent eyes children are so good at making. There are so many questions he wants to ask, but he doesn’t know where to start with translating any of them, so he just says that they’re going to get medical attention and then food.

That loosens her up again, and she skips and chatters alongside him all the way to the first pharmacy he can find.

* * *

The fourth time James sees Alessia is the first time it’s a planned event. He’s over an hour late for it, and one of his sleeves is drenched in blood, but Alessia is still perched on the railings in front of the hotel, waiting for him.

“Mi dispiace,” he says, and she scowls at him for two seconds before jumping down with a grin on her face.[32]

“Vabbè,” she says. “Che cosa facciamo ora?”[33]

“Ora, andiamo al caffè e tu parlami di te.” He looks down at his sleeves. “Aspetti. Ora, faccio la doccia. Quindi, andiamo al caffè.”[34]

James doesn’t need long in the shower, and he’s dressed and back out of the bathroom in time to catch Alessia in the act of rooting around in the wardrobe. He clears his throat and she jumps around, face sheepish.

“Mi dispiace.”[35]

“Hmm.” He wants to say something about poking her nose into places that might get her into danger, but he can’t translate it, and he also think that ship’s sailed. “Allora. Pronti?”[36]

Somehow he ends up holding her hand again on the walk to the café, and she tells him all about every shop they pass, half of which she’s been banned from for various reasons ranging from ‘accidentally knocked over a clothes rack’ to ‘tried to steal a five hundred euro watch’. From the sound of it, she’s lucky the locals are a small community who like to deal with things themselves rather than calling the police.

This time, James manages to learn more about Alessia’s current situation. Her father used to work at Xuereb’s vineyard, which is why she was there the first time James saw her, and he died of cancer two years ago. She can’t remember her mother, who died when she was very young, and she’s spent the past two years stealing and begging food from Xuereb’s cook whenever he wasn’t around. He’d beaten her, once, when he found her stealing grapes, and she’d only got away by snatching his gun off the table and shooting it. She missed by miles, but it startled him enough that she had time to run away. The she used up all the bullets practising in his fields when they were empty, but she was almost getting good by the end.

“Posso essere pericoloso,” she tells James, expression fierce. Then it breaks into a smile again. “Ma invece di un fucile, ho un coltello.”[37]

The knife she produces from her sleeve is a steak knife, and James’ eyebrows shoot up. It’s a wonder she hasn’t cut herself carrying that around.

“Bloody hell,” he says under his breath, but there’s an odd sensation floating somewhere between his head and his chest. He’s a little impressed. 

He looks at the tiny child in front of him: messed hair, a long skirt that’s tearing at the hem, a ratty t-shirt, a threadbare cardigan. Her shoes are falling apart, and most of her is skin and bones, but her eyes are bright and her voice is confident and she has no fear staring him down.

They continue talking, and he finds out that the second time they met in the city was an accident, but the last meeting at the construction site was because she followed him out. Alessia’s eyes glitter when she says she wanted to find out what happened to Xuereb, and James almost last.

Four hours later, they’re kicked out of the café. The owner is polite about it, because they’ve spent about sixty euro on various drinks, sandwiches, and cakes, but the sky is dark now and he wants to close up.

James leaves a tip on the edge of the table and then ushers Alessia outside.

“Dove dormi?”[38]

The question doesn’t frighten Alessia off, this time. Instead, she grabs his hand, again, and leads him through a maze of streets to a tiny shop with plyboard over the door and windows.

“Ha chiuso undici mese fa,” she says, and tugs at the lowest board. It comes away, leaving a hole that’s just big enough for her to crawl through. [39]

James nods. It’s better than he was expecting, but it’s still not ideal. He tells her to collect anything she wants to keep, and then they’re going back to his hotel.

As soon as he says it, he realises that this is one of the worst ideas he’s ever had — and Q likes to remind him that he’s had many awful ideas — because she shouldn’t trust a man she’s met three times before. 

Alessia, however, surveys him with narrowed eyes, then brightens and disappears into the shop, reappearing a few moments later with a duffle bag that’s gaping open, showing only a few items inside, including a teddy bear that’s missing an arm and an ear.

“È rotto,” she says, when she spots him looking, and runs the zip up and down one side of the teeth to demonstrate. “Dunque, andiamo?”[40]

* * *

James leaves Alessia in the hotel room the next morning — Sunday morning — under strict instructions to neither leave the room nor let anyone in. She’s allowed free run of the mini-bar and he shows her how to use the TV, and there are books, a notebook, and a pen at the table.

It’s another bad idea, but he’s not willing to get her into dangerous situations now that he has some sort of control over it. Besides, it only takes him three hours to wipe out one faction of Xuereb’s group and convince the other two to turn on each other.

“Nice work,” Q says in his ear. “I’ll call the authorities and have a flight ready for you in five hours. You should be home before midnight.”

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” James says, whilst thinking about what he’s going to do with Alessia.

“Die, prob— what?” Q’s voice moves away from his mic, and there’s a faint exchange. “Well, you should be okay from here on out, so I’m going to go help Double-oh Eight with a safe. I’ll link you onto R for emergencies. She’s working with Double-oh Three, but there’s nothing happening on that end at the moment.”

That works well. Usually James would take the opportunity to tease R about her crush on Agent Carter, but now he can use the time to ask her what to do with Alessia.

“You still have the child?” she asks, when he’s in the car he commandeered earlier and speeding back to the city. Her voice rises in pitch, but lowers in volume.

“I don’t want to just leave her,” he says.

There’s a long, suffering sigh on the other end of the comms. “If you bring her back to England, I’ll help you find somewhere for her.”

He glances in his rearview and wing mirrors and takes a sharp right turn at a speed that would leave a lesser driver in a crumple of wrecked car.

“I think I want to keep her.”

R is silent for so long that James thinks she’s just hung up on him in despair. In fact, he’s parking the car outside the hotel when she speaks again.

“You know you can’t just ‘keep’ a child, right?”

“She shot someone,” James says. R swears under her breath but he keeps going. “She shot someone because they were coming at me, she keeps a knife up her bloody sleeve, and she was unimpressed by Xuereb’s dead body about three feet away from her.”

“Q….”

“I’ll talk to Q about her. If he has a problem, then I take Alessia back to the flat in Kensington and find a really good babysitter for when I can’t be there.”

“Bond, you can’t just—”

“No one else is going to be able to keep hold of her.” He lets his head drop against the steering wheel, between his hands, because it’s mostly true. Putting her with someone who doesn’t know how to deal with guns and knives is going to get her into worse trouble, especially with her already light fingers. “Get her on the plane with me and I’ll talk to Q and we’ll work everything out then.”

R makes one more attempt: “A child is for life, not just for mid-April.” 

“I know.”

She pauses, then sighs, long and suffering. “This was supposed to be an easy job while Bobby’s asleep. Now I’ve got to make an eight-year-old appear in the system out of nowhere, and get a passport to you before your flight in five hours.”

James grins and extricates himself from the car. “How is Agent Carter?”

“I hate you,” R says, but he can hear her keyboard clicking.

* * *

Q leaves R on James’ comms for approximately twenty minutes, while he talks Double-oh Eight through a nasty security system in Baku. It’s only tracking James back to his hotel, and then Q switches back to sign off, clearing James for his flight home. 

Once that’s done, he turns his attention to the blueprints for Double-oh One’s MX5 and retreats to his office. There shouldn’t be anything else for him to do today; he could go home, but he’d rather wait for James to get back, and he might as well look over the development plans while he’s still in Q-Branch.

At some point, a minion brings him tea — chamomile, which means they think he should just go home and to bed now — but otherwise he spends the next TK hours in peace, scribbling notes on the paper copy and pulling components around on the digital version.

When someone knocks at the door, Q jumps so much that it knocks his mug over, spilling the last drags of cold tea over his desk.

“Shit,” he says, and then looks up at the door. “Agent Bond!”

His first instinct is to run to James, immediately followed by the sensible decision to stay in his chair, because they are at work, and the minions do not need extra ammunition for their gossip, which has managed to persist even after the official confirmation of Q and James’ relationship. 

His third reaction is suspicion. It’s been at least a year since James last knocked on the office door, instead of strutting in like it’s his, rather than Q’s. Q narrows his eyes at him.

“Ah, Quartermaster,” James says, with his most charming smile, |and he saunters into the room.

“Agent Bond.” Q looks up at him. “I don’t supposed you’ve managed to return with all you equipment intact.”

In response, James sets down his earpiece, gun, and TK. 

Q stares at them. As far as he’s aware, James hasn’t returned his entire kit following a mission since he was the newest agent in the program. Q’s predecessor had given up on expecting his devices to come back intact. Q, despite his constant needling about the subject, has never expected a whole field kit returned. Even the explosive hasn’t been used.

“What do you want?” Q raises an eyebrow, trying to model Miss Moneypenny.

James’ hand twitches, as though he wants to reach out for Q, but he doesn’t. Q has a single moment to be grateful, because he has Rules about navigating their relationship at work.

Then James says, “I found a child.”

There’s a long pause. Q stares at the wall over James’ shoulder.

“You...found a child,” he says, after counting to sixty-four. He knocks a fist on his desk. “What did you do with the child?”

“I brought her back here,” James says, and Q closes his eyes so he can shove the wave of panic back down as far as it will go. James’ shoes scuff on the floor. “She’s with Eve, at the moment. She’s eight, she speaks Italian, and she can use a gun.”

“Fucking hell, James,” Q says. He sucks in two quick breaths. “Agent Bond, have you abducted someone's child?”

“She’s an orphan, and I asked her first.”

“Fucking hell,” Q says, again. He opens his eyes and strides across to the cupboard, lifting out the jacket into which his sister had helped him sew weights. The jacket he’d worn into work is on the back of his chair, but he needs the weight of this one or else his soul is going to depart from his body because sometimes James causes problems, and sometimes they are more unusual and complicated than others.

It possibly says something about Q that the presence of a child has made him panic more than the presence of a live bomb and several hostile shooters, but there’s a reason he works with the latter rather than the former.

“Where are they?” he asks.

* * *

Miss Moneypenny is just slipping out of the conference room when they arrive. “I’m going to notify M of the civilian in the building,” she says. “I figured you two would be up soon. She’s in there, hasn’t been a problem.”

Q would disagree with that, but it’s not fair to judge the girl before he’s met her.

James leads the way into the room, but Q is close behind him and he sees the girl light up when she spots James. When she sees him, behind, she cocks her head.

“Ciao, signorina,” Q says. “Mi chiamo Q, e sono un amico.”[41]

She blinks at him. “Lei è inglese? Parla italiano bene. Meglio di Jack.” She glances at James and grins, wicked. “He needed practise,” she says in prefect English.[42]

James sputters. “You could speak English the whole time?”

The girl grins at James and bounces on her heels. “You needed practise,” she says again.

“You are a nightmare,” James says. She ignores him.

“My name’s Alessia, I’m eight years old and I like cats and chocolate.”

Something tugs in Q’s chest. Her face is bright and childish and she twists her hair into tiny plaits as she speaks, almost unconsciously. Her outfit is old and dirty and too small for her and Q sighs. At the very least, she needs new clothes.

A creak of floorboards in the corridor preempts the door opening, revealing Moneypenny, Tanner, and M. 

Alessia’s demeanour shifts, almost imperceptibly. Q only sees it because he knows how to make himself prickly without it being obvious. When she takes two steps closer to James, however, M’s gazes focuses on her. 

She scowls and looks up at James. “Lui parla italiano?”[43]

“Penso di non,” James says, looking over at M. M doesn’t say anything.[44]

“Ho paura. Mi sembra pericoloso e non mi piace,” she gabbles.[45]

“Si, ma anche io sono pericoloso, ti recordi?”[46]

“Boh,” Alessia says, and retreats closer to Bond, her hand tangling with his.

Q looks at their hands, then looks up at Bond, who shrugs.

“Shit,” Q whispers, a vague scream echoing at the back of his skull. A child.

* * *

Alessia agrees to talk to Tanner if James sits with her and M leaves the room. Q goes with Moneypenny and M to his office, where they’re joined by a sheepish looking R.

“I wondered how she got over here,” Q says when he spots R. “You got her ticket?”

“And a passport,” R says. “Under Winchester.”

Bond’s favourite cover, and the one he used for this mission, is Oliver Winchest, after the gun company. Q thinks this is far too obvious but he, unfortunately, continues not to be in charge of everything. There are more prudent battles to pick when it comes to arguing with James. Apparently including the previously unimagined ‘don’t pick up a child off the streets like a stray kitten’.

“So what are we doing with her, then?” M says. 

R shifts on her feet. “I told Bond that I’d help him find somewhere for her to live if he wanted help with it.”

“I know a couple of admin staff who have been talking about adoption,” Moneypenny says. For anyone else, it would be an odd coincidence that they happened to know people in a useful position, but in Moneypenny it’s just the natural order of things. She knows everyone and everything.

R opens her mouth, closes it, then changes her mind again and says, “Bond wants to keep her.”

Three heads turn towards Q and he sighs. “I thought he might.”

The weighted jacket is not enough. He drums a fist against his thigh and bites the inside of his lip, tugging it between his teeth until he can taste the copper tang of blood.

“She seems to have imprinted on Agent Bond,” he says. 

“That doesn’t mean she has to stay with him.” M looks at him, the lines of his body soft. Q considers him almost a friend, although it’s only a recent development, and only following James’ example. 

James’ acceptance of Mallory had been the most surprising, given his close relationship to Mansfield and his unwillingness to accept the new head of MI6 following her death. Something had changed during a mission to Hamburg that had involved M, and James had come home with a new friend to add to the two he already had in Tanner and Moneypenny. 

Q would tell him to make new friends, but he has R and Sam and maybe Agent Carter and that’s it. The nonsense saying about stones and glass houses was supposed to cover this sort of situation. Although lately there’s been an effort to bring the two groups together and double everyone’s friend count in one go.

“Do you want to talk to Bond?” R says. “I’ll babysit, although I don’t speak italian.”

“She speaks English.” Q sighs. “James was very surprised to hear about that.”

R snorts in amusement, and Moneypenny grins.

“Go and talk about it and let Moneypenny know what you decide. If you keep her, we’ll have to have some conversation about safety, both her own and national security.”

Q stops drumming on his thigh and twists his fingers in his tie instead, the panic swelling again. Bloody hell, James.

* * *

They end up back in Q-Branch, with half the minions staring at Alessia in various stages of confusion and concern, and the other half helping R keep her occupied without bringing the branch down around their ears. Alessia is very excited about all the equipment and it’s a battle to stop her from touching anything dangerous until one of the newer minions finds a fidget pen in his desk. Then she plays with that whilst listening to R with rapt attention.

Q drags James into his office — or leads him in, because dragging would be unprofessional — and stands behind his desk with his arms crossed, hands squeezing his biceps.

“My flat is tiny, James.”

Something brightens in James face, presumably at Q’s recognition that he wants to keep Alessia. He shrugs. “Mine isn’t.”

Q gives him the most withering look her can dredge up, although he thinks the effect is marred slightly by the faint terror he can’t get rid of. “Your flat has bullet holes, and all the personality of one of our holding cells.”

“Tanner would help us move, and Eve would help us redecorate.”

“Move?” Q sputters. “Now? Just like that?”

“We don’t have to,” James says. He moves closer to the desk, but doesn’t come round it. “We could make it work at yours if you lock your servers and set up a camp bed in there.”

Q’s flat is a two bedroom, but he’d turned the second into an office within two week sof living there. It’s technically beg enough, even with the server tower, but the idea of having someone he doesn’t know sleep in there with all his equipment makes Q fritz a little.

When he looks out into the main room, Alessia is practically vibrating as she watches R explain a set of explosive cufflinks.

“I don’t even know how to look after myself. What about when we’re at work? We can’t just leave her own her own. What about when you’re in the field? What then?” He’s rambling, and James does move round the table, then, to wrap Q in his arms.

James is strong, and the pressure calms Q a little, although it’s too important and strange a situation for him to be completely at ease.

“We’ll work it out.” James presses a kiss to the top of Q’s head. Normally he’d protest, but he’s too stressed to complain. 

Outside the office, Alessia has a pair of the prototype stiletto knife stilettos, and is brandishing it with a lightning grin and far too much enthusiasm. He catches a faint shout of “This is way cooler than my old knife!” and sags in James’ embrace.

“This is going to be a nightmare,” he says. “But she can stay.”

* * *

Alessia boggles at the security, keeping up a steady stream of commentary in quick italian. Over the day, it’s become apparent that, although she’s almost fluent in English, Italian is her default language setting, and excitement makes her fall back on it.

She’s saying something about how cool it would be to have poison arrows shoot out of the screws in the door number when the system unlocks and Q pushes the door open.

He lets James in first, because scanning a room for any problems is beyond a habit now, worn into James’ bones, then Alessia, and then steps inside himself, closing the door behind and reengaging the security.

“I gatti!” Alessia shrieks, and immediately drops to the floor, cross-legged with her hand out, palm up.[47]

Rameses, a chausie cat who is under the impression that the whole flat is his kingdom, surveys her.

“I love cats,” she tells James as Ram stalks closer. 

James sits on the couch and chats to her while Q goes and pretends to fuss about in the cupboard under the sink. He opens it and moves a few thinks around to bolster the illusion, then hunches up into himself and has something just short of a meltdown.

He likes Alessia, from what he’s seen of her so far. She’s smart and funny, confident and capable, and the sort of cheeky that’s endearing now but will probably come back to bite them if Q and James are actually going to try to parent her.

Q rocks on his feet with his hands clamped over his ears. He’s not good a change, not good at impromptu things and no warning, but he’s also not good at ignoring his many and intense feelings. They can’t leave Alessia. At the very least, his hyperempathy won’t allow it.

Fuck, but his brain is a contradiction sometimes. Most of the time.

When he catches his breath again and stands up — a new bottle of Fairy Liquid in his hand to explain his being under the sink — Alessia has managed to coax Rameses onto her lap. Romulus, a grey Kurilian Bobtail who’s rather shyer than Ram, has ventured out of the bedroom and is slowly edging towards the hand Alessia has on the floor.

She’s deliberately talking to James at great length about various illegal activities and not paying attention to Rom. Despite himself, Q smiles. Alessia definitely knows how cats work.

James looks at Q over Alessia’s head, and signs, “How are you?”

Q makes a face at him. “Tired. I can’t talk. Can you ask Alessia what she wants for food?” he signs. Just before James can ask, however, Q adds, “What she wants from McDonalds.”

James raises an eyebrow, a smile tugging at his lips, but he dutifully repeats the question to Alessia.

“Chicken nuggets!” Alessia shouts, almost throwing Ram off her lap in excitement. He gives her a baleful look that she doesn’t see, too busy adding Fanta and ice cream to her food order. 

Rom takes the opportunity to press himself into Alessia’s side. She cuts off her rambling and gaps, stroking gently along the soft fur on his back.

“His tail is strange,” she says. Rom rubs his face against her leg and mewls.

“Now that you’ve made friends,” James says, do you want to watch TV while I go and get dinner?”

“You haven’t asked Q what he wants for dinner,” she says immediately, her tone immensely disapproving.

Q presses a hand over his mouth so James can’t see how much he’s grinning.

“It’s okay. He always gets the same thing so I know it by heart,” James says, and Alessia thaws.

“Can I talk to Q while you’re gone?”

“You can talk, but he might not talk back. He’s a bit tired, at the moment.”

Alessia peeks over at Q, where he’s still stood behind the counter with one hand holding Fairy Liquid he doesn’t actually need, and the other over his grin.

“Okay,” she tells James, and then asks Q, “Do you want to come and sit with me?”

Q goes and sits on the couch, waiting for Alessia to manage the difficult task fo migrating from the floor whilst keeping hold of the cats. They watch Britain’s Got Talent, because Alessia says she used to like watching Italia’s Got Talent when she could watch telly, and Alessia inches closer and closer to Q. He doesn’t stop her. When James returns, he sits on the other side of her and they eat their food in front of QI.

Alessia sits in the middle, the cats relegated to the back of the couch with Rameses flicking his tail by her ear, and looks absolutely thrilled by the whole situation.

* * *

[1] "You have a gun."[return to text]

[2] "Who are you?"[return to text]

[3] "You speak italian?"[return to text]

[4] "Yes. My name's Jack."..."What's your name?"[return to text]

[5] "Are you okay, Alessia? Where are your relatives?" (he means to say parents)[return to text]

[6] "I don't have relatives."[return to text]

[7] "Where do you live?"[return to text]

[8] "Here and there."[return to text]

[9] "Who do you live with?"[return to text]

[10] "You ask too many questions."[return to text]

[11] "Come with me. The police are coming."[return to text]

[12] "How old are you?"[return to text]

[13] "I'm eight. Who are you talking to?"[return to text]

[14] "A friend."[return to text]

[15] "Sorry."..."It was an important conversation."[return to text]

[16] "About me?"[return to text]

[17] "I'm missing a meeting, and she wanted to know why." (incorrectly conjugated)[return to text]

[18] "She wanted to know my age?"[return to text]

[19] "She wanted to know you're not my mistress."[return to text]

[20] "Gross!"[return to text]

[21] "Exactly. Come on, I'm hungry. Are you?"[return to text]

[22] "I'm starving."[return to text]

[23] "Then we better go find some food."[return to text]

[24] "Why are you here?"..."How did you find me?"[return to text]

[25]"You're loud."[return to text]

[26] "And dangerous. The vineyard, Valletta, and now here. They're not close."[return to text]

[27] "You killed him?"[return to text]

[28] "He fell."[return to text]

[29] "But you wanted to kill him?"..."He was a dangerous man."[return to text]

[30] "It's very dangerous, here."[return to text]

[31] "Come."[return to text]

[32] "Sorry."[return to text]

[33] "It's okay."..."What are we doing now?"[return to text]

[34] "Now, we're going to a café and you're going to tell me about yourself."..."Wait. Now, I'm having a shower. Then we'll go to the café."[return to text]

[35] "Sorry."[return to text]

[36] "Well. Ready?"[return to text]

[37] "I can be dangerous."..."But instead of a gun, I have a knife."[return to text]

[38] "Where do you sleep?"[return to text]

[39] "It closed eleven months ago."[return to text]

[40] "It's broken."..."Well, are we going?"[return to text]

[41] "Hello, miss."..."My name is Q, and I'm a friend."[return to text]

[42] "You're English? You speak italian well. Better than Jack."[return to text]

[43] "Does he speak italian?"[return to text]

[44] "I don't think so."[return to text]

[45] "I'm scared. He seems dangerous and I don't like it."[return to text]

[46] "Yes, but I'm dangerous, too, remember?"[return to text]

[47] "I gatti!"[return to text]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from the song 'Fatti Avanti Amore' which I believe was written for the artist's daughter, and as such I thought it appropriate. It means 'I will not ask you why'.
> 
> Keep notes:  
> \--I think I'm getting quite good at writing around action scenes rather than having to write the action scene themselves  
> \--am i going to use the international aspect of Bond's job to shove italian into as many bond fics as possible? yes. yes, I am aboslutely going to do that  
> \--did I get too lazy to continue translating or did I just want to give non-italian speaking readers a break? you decide  
> \--partially inspired by 'Tanner, that's a no-no word' by TheGoodDoctor which is just so good guys like the whole series is just pachajustright.img I mean just look at this writing: "Tanner was aware that he was rising into hysteria in the same way a man running from a tiger is aware that he is running towards a leopard – too desperate and terrified to stop." like hot damn I could never  
> \--very excited to find the prompt about foreign langauges so I get extra points for the story I've already put far too much italian into  
> \--James acquires the child in malta and she'll only speak to him in italian, which he's very rusty at but it's fine because Q is excellent at italian so he'll know what to do. only then they get back to england and she immediately has a wonderful conversation with Q all in perfect english because she's a cheeky little shit  
> \--Bond's favourite cover is Oliver Winchester, after the gun company. Q thinks this is far too obvious but he, unfortunately, continues to not be in charge of everything  
> 


End file.
